


Mea culpa

by Attack_on_mgl



Series: Awesamdream fics [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crying, Exhaustion, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loneliness, Mental Anguish, Regret, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attack_on_mgl/pseuds/Attack_on_mgl
Summary: It was weird watching him cry.Watching the person that had ruined his life, crumple into a shuddering fit of tears in the sand, hoarse screams muffled by porcelain.
Series: Awesamdream fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015597
Comments: 5
Kudos: 253





	Mea culpa

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna post this on the 14th but I forgot lmao, so here it is, even tho it has literally no relevance to the plot anymore :)))))
> 
> !!!Double check the tags for potential triggers!!!

It was weird watching him cry. 

Watching the person that had ruined his life, crumple into a shuddering fit of tears in the sand, hoarse screams muffled by porcelain.

Another man stood, combat boots scuffed with chips of netherrack and chest still heaving slightly from his desperate run through the nether. The decapitated creeper head he normally wore with pride had been recklessly discarded on the grass the second he'd leapt out the portal. 

That had been the last straw. 

The thing that caused the blond to fall to his knees and slam his fist repeatedly into the shore. 

_"He wasn't meant to leave me!"_

_"Dr–"_

_"He was the last person I had left. He was the last fucking person!"_ Despite the mask, Dream shakily covered his face with his hands when the older man knelt down in front of him. _"…H-He was the only one I had left, a-and now he's gone–"_

The tears in Sam's eyes were visible in the moonlight, the late evening breeze encouraging a few to slip. He sniffed, before giving his friend's shoulders a firm shake. _"C'mon, you know that's not true. I'm your friend, remember? Been here since the beginning– We're building the prison–"_

_"I drove a child to suicide, Sam! H-How can you even say that…?"_

Apparently ghost's could still feel emotions, because the pang of anxiousness that suddenly hit him was nothing short of unpleasant. He could feel Wilbur's stare on him – protective, yet hesitant – and hid inside his tent a little more, worried he'd be spotted. 

Those alive had to respect the dead… and Tommy figured it was best to return the favour, no matter what had happened in his life. 

Dream needed time to mourn, whether he liked it or not. 

The white mask was unclipped by gentle, gloved fingers, and Sam carefully lowered it from its owners face, smiling sadly. _"Jesus, Dream…"_ Blond hair was damp with sweat and plastered messily to his forehead, eyes worryingly bloodshot and cheeks flushed. _"…I bet you he's already doing Ghostbur's head in – phasing through walls and everything."_ He smiled a little brighter, the optimism rubbing off on the younger man as he barely let out a chuckle.

Tommy turned to Wilbur as his brother stifled a laugh and nudged him playfully with his elbow, the small mutter of "you're too predicable" causing him to roll his eyes, but not deny it. 

He was too preoccupied to retort, in his defence. 

Seeing his tormentor so vulnerable was, admittedly, foreign. Jarringly so. 

"Why wasn't he like this when I was alive." Tommy muttered, the question too deadpan and low to be a genuine question. 

Wilbur hummed. "I think he isn't very happy with himself." 

"Yeah, no shit." He watched as Sam, after a moment, finally managed to spark a flame onto the haphazard pile of logs he'd bunched together on the sand. 

Dream was curled up against the taller man, considerably more quiet as he sniffed; the physical embodiment of exhaustion and fatigue. 

Tommy frowned. 

Saying he felt conflicted would be an understatement. 

The man was a bully – an agent of chaos that had watched over him 24/7 and drove him mad – and yet Tommy had jumped, hit the ground hard, and woken up in bed to the sound of someone screaming bloody murder at nothing.

_"You've ruined your voice."_

_"…So what."_

Sam sighed as he pulled the younger man closer into his chest. _"In the morning we'll go back to mine and get some healing, yeah?"_ He only got a small nod in response, not that he minded. 

Tommy liked Sam. More specifically, he liked how he always put others first, even if he, himself was hurting. 

Because he _was_ – the tears in his eyes were obvious to anyone that had a proper look. 

The blond slowly turned to his left, reluctantly diverting his attention and focusing on his older brother. 

The substance in the brunet's hands dusted his fingers tips blue, the silent question of "should I?" evident as he blinked owlishly. 

Tommy chewed his lip before jabbing his head in the direction of the little campfire, barely smiling when Wilbur's face lit up excitedly. 

_Blue_ was a treasured thing, and even though Tommy hated to say it… Dream needed a hell of a lot of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I know this is an incredible canon divergence, but the idea of Dsmp!Dream – despite doing the mandatory armour detention – developing a genuine attachment to Dsmp!Tommy always crossed my mind, considering how many friends he lost/pushed away recently.
> 
> Idk. Maybe it's just my Dsmp!Dream apologist jumping out.
> 
> That being said, let me know what thougt about this :) my second favourite thing apart from writing, is reading comments, so anything is welcome <3


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